Face It
by DALLYsaysSHUTtheHELLup
Summary: Ponyboy Curtis was left horribly disfigured after saving kids in a church fire. He's been living in resentment for almost a year, but now maybe it's time for him to make a change, and look in the mirror. Maybe this time he'll see something different.
1. All my windows still are broken

**Hey guys, new story time.**

**Okay, so this story has been on my mind for awhile, and I just recently got the motivation to write it. This has to be one of my favorite stories I have ever written, so I hope you guys embrace it as much as I have. It was so much fun getting into Ponyboy's head.**

******I would love to know what you guys think of this story, it would mean a lot.**

**I don't own The Outsiders. **

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><p>I drew in a deep breath, before opening my eyes slowly, preparing myself for what I was about to see. Nothing could prepare me for the image that was before me though. My heartbeat sped up, and my breaths were coming in short spurts, I gripped the edge of the sink, trying too steady myself.<p>

A wave of nausea hit me when it finally registered that was my face I was staring at. I could feel the vomit in the back of my throat; I opened my mouth and threw up into the sink. A fine line of perspiration broke out on my forehead, and I was having trouble breathing. I gasped for air.

I figured it would get easier. I prayed that it would get easier. It should have been getting easier. Why wasn't it? Why does it seem to be getting harder?

I turned the faucet on when I got control over myself, and watched my puke getting washed down the drain. Watching that was better than looking at my reflection. Anything was better than that. I hated what I saw.

Despised what I saw. But those weren't the only feelings I felt whenever I saw myself. I felt anger, I felt sad, I felt like giving up. Those are the reasons why I avoid mirrors whenever I can. I can pretend for a little while that I'm normal.

Okay, I really couldn't pretend I was ever normal, no matter how well I managed to avoid my reflection. The stares, the snide comments, were constant remainders.

I cupped my hands under the running water, filling them up the best I could, before bringing my hands to my lips and getting what water I could into my mouth. I swished it around, before spitting it back out, trying to get rid of the taste of vomit.

I dried my hands on the front of my pants, before bringing my hand up slowly, tentatively. I stopped it about an inch from my face, before lightly brushing my fingers down the side. Then I did the exact same thing to the other side, testing the difference, even though I knew the difference. One side was smooth, while the other side was jagged.

I shook my body out trying to get rid of all the feelings. It was no use; these feelings have seemed to of made a home with me, and weren't intending to move anytime soon. At least they've got a little easier to control. All it took was seven months, I thought bitterly.I drew in another deep breath, this time for a different reason.

I slipped out of the bathroom, making my way into the kitchen. Last year the smell that was coming from the stove would have made my mouth water, and my stomach growl. Now it made me want to gag. I apparently lost my appetite along with everything else.

Sitting in one of the chairs set at the table I waited for Darry to notice me.

"Morning, kiddo," he greeted me placing a plate in front of me.

"Morning," I mumbled back.

Darry was more relaxed nowadays, it probably had to do with his promotion, and him being able to quit his second job.

There were moments though that I caught him staring at me, a guilty expression on his clean shaven face. It was clear to all of us he blamed himself for what happened to me, and I wouldn't doubt if he even blamed himself for Johnny and Dally's death.

My fingers started to tremble slightly, as I thought their names. I swallowed hard. So long I was able to keep those names from entering my mind. I closed my eyes, focusing on keeping my breathing regular. I counted back from one hundred, trying desperately to hold on to something. Anything that would keep me from getting lost inside of myself, like I have done so many times before. I couldn't stand it.

Imagine being locked in a small dark room, where there was a voice that reminded you of every bad thing that has ever happened to you. Fun, huh?

I slowly opened my eyes back up, which were meant with a very concerned Darry. "You okay?" He tried making his voice soothing.

He thought I was crazy.

I couldn't blame him. I would think of me as crazy too if I was in his shoes. After the fire, and everything that happened after that, I didn't know how to deal. I still don't know how to deal. I know ignoring it isn't a healthy solution, but it's all I had.

If you would have seen me three months ago, you would have thought I made great progress. I was in the darkness a long time, I wanted to stay in the darkness. I was hurting Sodapop though. I was causing my brother pain, and I couldn't hurt Soda, so I did my best to let the light back into my dark cave.

"I need to head to work, little man, but I'll get off early to drive you to your appointment."

I rolled my good eye. "I'm not a baby Darry, I'm almost fifteen, and can take the bus."

"Ponyboy…I don't know if that's the…best idea." He was choosing his words carefully. The last few months he has been walking on eggshells around me. Like one wrong word is going to make me snap.

_Snap_. I looked down startled realizing that I had broken the plate in two pieces. I didn't even remember picking it up.

I sighed. "I'll be ready to go when you get home."

He nodded, before cleaning up the mess from the plate.

How did things go so wrong, in such a short amount of time? Why did things have to be so fucked up? Why did I have to be so fucked up? I wanted to be normal, or at least as close to normal I can get.

I acknowledged Darry's leaving with a wave of my hand, trying to remember what he told me before he left. Oh well. Hopefully it wasn't of importance. I stood up and washed my hands, seeing that Darry had done the dishes before he left. Which was suppose to be my job, but I'm not complaining.

I checked the time. I had hours to kill before my appointment, and nothing to do. I wandered aimlessly around the house, which killed five minutes. It's a small house.

I could go for a walk around the block, or something. The Soc's rarely jumped greasers anymore. I really didn't want to go outside though. It was finally summer, and the last thing I wanted to do was spend my time out there, where people looked at me like I was some kind of freak. Pulling back the curtain I stared out the window. There wasn't anything great out there anyway. Just a bunch of losers, living loser lives.

I would trade places with any one of them in an instant.

I allowed the curtain to fall back into place, before turning and making my way back to my room. I preferred to be alone, but I hated it. Darry didn't like me by myself anyway. It was just recent that he started trusting me alone again. Steve, Two-Bit, and Sodapop all took turns babysitting me.

Throwing myself on the bed, I buried my face into the pillow wondering if I could get some more sleep. I pushed that idea aside, I had enough trouble sleeping at night as is. Plus if I slept I probably would dream. Dreaming wasn't such a good thing for me anymore.

I pushed myself off the bed, when I heard the front door open and close. I stayed in my room in case it was someone I didn't want too see. Before long the bedroom door was pushed open and I was tackled to the floor, landing with a grunt. I fought back trying to get the upper hand, but was failing.

I cursed finally able to get the intruder off of me. I glared at him sitting there laughing his ass off.

"Damn it, Two-Bit, I told you to stop doing that shit." I got up slowly, brushing myself off.

He just chuckled. "Fine, fine. I won't do it again."

In truth I really didn't mind it. He treated me as the same before. He never once cringed away from me, or acted startled by my appearance. He was still my buddy, but he wasn't the same buddy I knew my whole life. He was finally starting to grow up. He couldn't be a scatterbrained drunk forever, boy's eventually have to turn into men, which is what he was doing. Thankfully. He could have just took the easy way and turned into a drunken hood.

I admired him. He was finally going to be a senior and I knew he was going to make it through, I just knew it. He had too.

"Come on I haven't had real action in a long while, let's go make some noise in this town."

I shook my head. "I have an appointment today."

"I know. We'll be back in plenty of time."

"I can't get into any trouble. You know that." I was trying to get out of it.

"Shoot kid, I would never get you into any real trouble."

I continued shaking my head. People had all year to stare and gawk at me. They're not going to have the privilege of it being a summer thing too.

What? You're going to stay cooped up in the house all summer? That's really any better than some mean comments? A part of my brain that I haven't heard from in awhile said.

"Damn it!"

Two-Bit was staring at me, an eyebrow raised.

Great, that's two people who have looked at me like I was a nutcase. In one day too. I guess the looks couldn't get any worse than that.

"Let's go."

Two-Bit's lips turned up into a smile. "Now you're talking!"

I tried my best to return his smile. I reluctantly followed him out the front door, into the bright sunlight, with only one thing on my mind; I must be suicidal for riding in the death trap Two-Bit called a car. I didn't even have time to put on my seat belt before we were speeding down the street.

Even men needed to visit boyhood every now and than.

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><p><strong>Sooo what did ya think? Tell me in a review? Sorry, if they're a few mistakes my beta is extremely busy right now. But she did look over it, so luckily there's no blinding mistakes. lol. <strong>


	2. But this nightmare never ends

**Thanks for those of you who reviewed, and those of you who added this story to your favorite or alerts. It really means a lot.**

**So Ponyboy is gonna be portrayed a little more gritty than most stories have probably portrayed him as. Some of you might think it's to much, but I'm writing him in a real manner. He's lost, and is still trying to find his way home. Metaphorically speaking of course. **

**I love hearing your guy's thoughts, and I would really love to know how you felt about this chapter.**

**I hope you guys enjoy it, I love you all, even my silent readers. ;D Who are almost like story lurkers. *waves to all the lurkers* I kid.**

**I don't own the rights to the outsiders, though I do own the book and movie. Does that count for anything?**

**On with the story. Sorry this one is a little shorter, next one will be longer, promise. Depending on how many reviews I get. Muhahahaha. Kidding. It will be no matter what. **

**Happy reading.  
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><p>I stared out the window as the scenery rushed past. There was a few houses, some trees maybe, I couldn't tell you for sure though. I've been doing that a lot lately, looking at something, but not really seeing it.<p>

Two-Bit had some song on the radio and was singing along, yelling might be a better word for it. I cringed slightly hearing his voice go up a few octaves. He actually had a pretty decent singing voice, when he was drunk; I guess sober isn't as good to him.

I slid down in the seat, when we came to a stop at a red light. There was a car on my side of the door.

Two-Bit shut off the radio.

"You can't hide from the world forever, kid."

"I'm not hiding," I mumbled, unbuckling my seat belt, attempting to slide further down.

I crossed my arms over my chest. I was in a pretty uncomfortable position, but it was better than very uncomfortable stares

"Ponyboy..."

"Drop it," I snapped. "You just don't understand."

"Yeah, because you won't let me understand. You won't let any of us. It's killing Soda that you shut him out."

I inwardly winced. That wasn't fair, that was below the belt. I was just trying to protect Soda from my pain. Why couldn't anyone see that? It was actually one of my few selfless acts this past few months.

I stayed silent, not moving from my spot even when the car started moving again. I wanted to kick myself for agreeing to come with him in the first place. My room was the safest place for me. I slowly slid back up the seat, and resumed staring out of the window.

"We can't help you if you don't let us."

Two-Bits voice was soft. He was afraid of upsetting me more. He was afraid of how I would act. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to hit something. Nobody could help me. The only thing that could help me now was a bullet right through the fuckin' brain.

_Do it then. What exactly are you waiting for? A gun to fall out of the sky? _

I froze. My breathing stopped. I'm not crazy. I do not hear voices, not anymore. I was on the edge, the ground was teetering under me. I was going to lose control. I couldn't. Not in the car with Two-Bit, he'd think I was crazier than he already does. He'd never look at me the same.

I could see a gas station up ahead. "Pull in there," I gasped out, pointing. "I-I have to pee. Hurry up."

I desperately tried holding onto the little bit of sanity I had left.

Two-Bit thankfully obeyed and I was out of the car, before it was all the way stopped. I ran into the bathroom, not caring who saw me.

Once I was securely locked in the bathroom, I let loose. I broke everything I could get my hands on, getting more upset when I couldn't break something. Finally I stood in front of the mirror, breathing heavily, before sending my fist into it. I didn't feel the pain. I would have welcomed that pain with open arms. Anything would be better than the pain I constantly felt. I stared down at my hands. One was bleeding.

Great. Explaining this to Two-Bit is gonna be a blast. I grabbed a paper towel and wet it, cleaning up my fist the best I could. At least it kind of matched it's brother. It was kind of fucked up now too.

I walked to the car with my head low, and my hand stuffed into my pocket.

"Everything okay?" Two-Bit asked when I was back in the car.

"Just dandy," I replied, the bitter sarcasm evident in my voice.

He clenched the steering wheel. I'm guessing he was angry. I didn't care though. What did he expect? That I was suppose to love life, and everything in it, despite what it has done to me?

I'm still breathing. My hearts still beating. I didn't take the easy way out like some people. They should be grateful about that.

I was barely happy before. The few things that made me happy were gone. Sodapop had a new girlfriend, who was amazing in his eyes. She wouldn't even look at me though. It didn't matter, I didn't need him. He could marry her, have some perfect baby's, and never speak to me again for all I cared.

I used to be a better liar, especially to myself.

"Take me home, Two-Bit. Just take me home."

He stayed silent, but made a U-turn, so I was pretty sure he was listening.

Switching the radio back on, I laid my head back on the seat, trying to ignore my arm that was itching. I couldn't scratch it. If I did than Two-Bit would notice my hand, and barred me with questions, or tell Darry who would barred me with questions.

Shit.

I forgot I had a doctors appointment. He's going to notice my hand and I had no way of answering how it happened.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Two-Bit hadn't uttered a word, since we pulled away from the gas station. This must be a record for him.

I sighed, knowing I was going to have to apologize even if I didn't mean it.

"I'm sorry," I said, the two words coming out like they were combined.

I'm pretty sure it sounded more like I-morry.

Real sincere.

He turned the dial on the radio, and the music filled the car louder, making it impossible to talk.

Fine by me.

It wasn't fine though. Something inside of my was breaking more and more. I didn't understand how, considering I was already broken beyond repair.

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	3. There's no one home in my house of pain

**Don't have much of an authors note to put. lol**

**Really big thanks to my beta _Independence_ Undervalued who is beta-ing two of my stories. She absolutely rocks, and makes my stories ten times better than they would be. **

**Love to hear your guys thoughts.  
>Thanks for reading. :3<strong>

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><p>I walked straight to the kitchen to check the time prior to getting home. The clock seemed to be mocking me, with the time proclaiming to be a quarter to one. You've got to be kidding me, I thought with annoyance. At least I had time to come up with a story about what happened to my hand.<p>

I went into my room, grabbed my sketch book off the desk, and settled down on the bed. Propping my knees up, I used them to balance the pad while flipping to a fresh sheet of paper. I stared at it a long moment, trying to conjure up what I was going to draw in my mind before trying to get it down on paper. I tossed the pad to the side, remembering I forgot to grab a pencil along with it.

I rummaged around my desk, not having much success in the pencil search. Where the hell were all my pencils? I left my room and walked into Darry's, not quite ready to give up on my pencil shirt. I felt a little weird about going through his stuff, but it's not like was snooping, I was just looking for a pencil.

I got on my hands and knees and peered under the bed, you never know he could have stashed some pencils underneath there. I pulled out the shoe box, wondering why he would keep an old shoe box under his bed.

I held my breath as I opened it, knowing that it wasn't gonna be empty nor were there going to be shoes inside of it. I released my breath, picking up the first picture that was on the top. A lump formed in my throat as I stared at the picture in my hands. I swiped at a tear that had spilled over and quickly dropped the picture back in the box, returning the lid with shaky hands before pushing it back where I found it, tucked beneath my brothers bed.

I quickly scrambled to my feet and went back to my own room. I wasn't ready to see what was in that box. Everything was too fresh, the wounds were still raw. I clutched my chest, expecting the gaping hole to widen and suck me in. Almost half hopeful. I sank down to my knees, trying to swallow around the lump in my throat. I was not going to cry. Crying was weak. I wasn't weak. Not anymore.

Once I was in control again, I went into the bathroom to see how much damage was done to my hand. Not bad, I decided after a few minutes of examining. I stuck it under the cold water, washing the remainder of the dry blood off. Hopefully no glass was stuck in it.

Let's see, 'Darry I was really excited so I was pumping my fist in the air, miscalculated, and hit a brick wall.' Yep, that sounded real plausible.

I finally accessed a pencil and wandered back into my room, picking up the sketch pad from where I tossed it. I closed my bad eye, not wanting to blurriness of it to mess anything up.

The pencil moved across the paper, my hand seeming to have a mind of it's own. Drawing for me was like when someone wrote in a journal. It showcased my personal thoughts and feelings. People seeing my drawing would be the same as someone looking inside of my mind.

I was lost in my drawing when I heard a voice that sounded like it was coming from miles away. It took me a few minutes that the voice was a lot closer.

"Ponyboy!"

It took me a long time to come back from where ever I was. I slowly looked over at Darry.

"Huh?" I asked dumbly.

"Your appointment." He gestured to his wrist, I guessed demonstrating the time.

"Oh, right. Let me just go change real quick."

"Hurry up, would ya?"

I nodded, while grabbing a long sleeved button up shirt from the closet. I decided the pants were fine to wear. Slipping into the bathroom, I slowly pulled off the shirt I had on, also long sleeved. I didn't look down when I slipped my arm through the sleeves and buttoned up the shirt, thankful I got all the buttons in the right hole.

"Let's go," I said walking out of the bathroom, and towards the front door.

"How was your day?" Darry questioned as soon as we were driving.

"Fine," I replied.

"What did you do?" He prompted.

"Nothing."

He gave up, and we drove the rest of the way in silence.

The waiting room of the doctors office wasn't that crowded, but there were a few people. I ignored the glances, picked up a magazine from a nearby table, and flipped through it. It wasn't long before the nurse called my name. She was my regular nurse, so she didn't sound surprised as she pronounced my name or give me a strange look when I walked through the door to the back.

"Hi Pony," She greeted me with a big smile. "Darry." She went on, extending her greeting to him.

"Carol," Darry replied politely.

Carol pushed open one of the closed doors and gestured for us to go in.

"Just hop up on the table, Ponyboy."

I did what I was told and my feet swung in the air my legs not being long enough to reach anything solid, making me feel very small.

"Take off your shirt for me?"

I fidgeted. "There's nothing new to see since last time."

"That's for Dr. Walters to decide."

I sighed defeated and slowly started to unbutton my shirt. Yanking it off, I held it out to Darry, who took it and folded it over his arm.

I stared at the wall white, feeling more exposed than I usually did.

"How'd that happen?" Darry demanded, noticing the cut on my hand.

I shrugged.

Carol came closer to examine it and I flinched away.

"Ponyboy..." Her voice was gentle. "I have to see it."

"It has nothing to do with why I'm here today."

She gave in, gave Darry a sympathetic smile, and told us the Doctor would be in soon before retreating.

I could feel Darry's eyes on me, I ignored him the best I could by focusing on the slow tick coming from the clock hanging on the wall.

It wasn't long before the doctor came in. "How are we feeling?" He asked cheerfully.

I don't know nor care how you're feeling, but I'm feeling pretty crummy, I wanted to say, but of course refrained from saying. Instead I mumbled, "Fine."

"Hmmm...," he said after a couple of minutes of poking and prodding me.

"What's wrong?" Darry asked already alarmed.

"It looks like there might be an infection setting in," he told us, or should I say, told Darry.

"An infection? What does that mean?" Darry demanded.

It was like I wasn't even in the room. I wondered if anyone would notice if I just got up and walked out. I was guessing they would, considering they would have nothing to poke anymore. I didn't want to answer or ask any of these questions so I guess it wasn't so bad being ignored. Better then be acknowledged.

"I don't think it's too serious. I'm going to start him on some antibiotics, but I want him back next week. Overall he seemed to have healed nicely."

A few minutes later I was pulling my shirt back on. Healed nicely. I guess if you saw me before you would have said it healed nicely too. I cringed slightly remember being in the church. Remember when I tripped and my face fell on the piece of tin that was in there and blistered to it in seconds.

I tried to get the memory out of my head, hoping that maybe this would be the time it went and never came back.

I went straight to my room as soon as we got home. I was reading a book when Sodapop walked in, but I didn't bother looking up from it. Not even when he cleared his throat three times.

"Pony?" His voice sounded so pathetically sad I had to look at him.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna go see a movie tonight?" He wanted to be on my territory. Sodapop hated movies. Having to sit still for over an hour just didn't appeal to him.

"Girlfriend's busy?"

"This has nothing to do with her, Pony. I just wanna spend sometime with my brother."

"Bet she was real happy about that," I said with biting sarcasm.

Soda was staring at me like I was a stranger. "I don't know why you have a problem with her. She really likes you, thinks you're really brave."

I had to laugh out loud at that. "She tell you that?"

"Just talk to me, Pone. Why are you being like this?"

"Get out." I wasn't angry, wasn't upset, just tired of pretending. Pretending that his girlfriend wasn't a bitch. Pretending that he actually cared about me.

He looked startled. "What?"

"This is my room now and I want you out." My voice rose with each word and soon enough Darry stuck his head inside the door. "What's going on in here?"

"Nothing," Soda stood up but was still staring at me like I was an alien and he was waiting for his brother to reappear. He finally walked out the door though.

I tried to drown their voices out but I could still hear them talking in low voices.

"Soda, you know not to push him."

"That's not even Ponboy anymore. I mean who is that, Darry? Where'd our kid brother go?"

He went into that fire, I thought, and never came back out.


	4. And I will try to fix you

**Oh my gosh *taps screen* is there anyone out there still reading this? I'm so sorry it took so long for an update. I'm horrible and terrible I know.**

**This chapter is in 3rd POV because it wouldn't make sense from Pony's and it didn't really seem to fit Soda's voice.**

**So I would really appreciate reviews like all authors on here. **

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><p>"Darry…." Soda whispered in a hushed tone, worry evident in his voice. "Dar, he's really burning up."<p>

Leaning over the bed, Darry pressed his hand to Pony's forehead, alarmed at how warm his flesh felt against his skin. You could tell something wasn't right just by looking at him. His face was flushed and his breathing was shallow and uneven.

"Pony, wake up." Darry gently shook his shoulder and was met with nothing but a groan.

"Go call the hospital and tell them we're coming in." Darry glanced over his shoulder at Soda, who was obviously a bit anxious. Not that Darry could blame him. "And then go start the truck up."

Sodapop's eyes widened slightly at the mention of the hospital; frightened that whatever Darry thought was wrong required a trip to the emergency room.

Darry carefully lifted Pony from his bed, trying not to disturb him too much. Despite the heat that was coming from his body, he was trembling ever so slightly and Darry held him closer, carrying him through the house and out the front door into the cool night air.

Soda hopped out of the truck and jogged around to the passenger side to help get Pony into the cab. Pony was thinner than ever but he was mostly dead weight at the moment so it was still a challenge getting him in. Soda quickly climbed in next to him when they got him situated and Darry slid behind the steering wheel.

For once Darry didn't pay any mind to the speed limits and muttered a curse when he ran a stop sign. He slowed down a bit after that. All they needed was to get into an accident on the way to the hospital.

Ponyboy was startled awake when Darry came to an abrupt stop at a red light. His eyes bright with fever darted around frantically, reminding Soda of a spooked horse. "Ssshh its okay Pone," Soda pushed his hair back, talking in a low soothing voice. "Go back to sleep."

**x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x***

Soda sat in the chair next to Pony's bed, watching him carefully. He looked so small and helpless with the needles and IV. The nurse's and doctor assured him that he was going to be fine and it wasn't anything serious. But if it wasn't anything serious why the hell were they planning on keeping him another night? That seemed pretty damn serious to him.

"Don't you ever go home?" Valarie, the nurse that worked the morning shift asked with a smile, walking into the room.

"I'll go when he goes," He answered, nodding towards Pony. Darry left early that morning, having to take care of a few things at work and there was no way in hell Soda was going to leave Ponyboy here by himself.

Valarie hummed softly as she switched out his IV.

"When is he gonna be able to go home?" Soda prompted, straightening up in the chair.

"Hard to say….hopefully in a few days…we're still trying to find the right combination of antibiotics."

Soda sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "He's gonna be stuck here a few more days?"

"It's possible…we need to knock this infection out." Valarie patted Sodapop on the shoulder. "Don't look so down, the time will go by pretty quickly; I'm covering the night-shift so I'll see you later tonight."

***x*x*x*x*x*x***

"How ya feeling?" Soda asked a still groggy Ponyboy.

"Alright, I guess." Ponyboy yawned.

Soda was using Ponyboy's food tray to shuffle the deck of cards that Steve brought by earlier. Darry had went home about an hour ago after Soda convinced him that it would be a good idea for him to go to work tomorrow.

"Hey…did we miss the game?" Pony suddenly asked.

"What game?" Soda didn't look up from the cards.

"Darry's football game…did I miss it?"

Sodapop blinked in confusion and set the cards down, raising his head to meet Ponyboy's gaze. Was he messing with him?

"Maybe we can still make it." Ponyboy went on not waiting for an answer.

Sodapop wasn't sure how to respond. "Pony, you can't go anywhere," he told him slowly.

"Yes, I can." Ponyboy struggled to sit up and Soda gently pushed him back down.

"No, honey, you can't. Just stay in bed."

"No…get mom and dad…please Sodapop….I just wanna go home." Ponyboy attempted to yank the needle out of his hand and Soda grasped his wrists.

"Can I get some help in here?" Soda called out desperately, trying to keep Ponyboy from ripping out his IV.

"What's going on in here?" Valarie demanded, striding into the room.

"He's not making any sense and he was trying to take out his IV's." Sodapop explained, but the struggle must have been to exhausting for him because he had stopped fighting and was lying back staring up at the ceiling.

"He was talking about going to see Darry's football game…Darry hasn't played football since highschool." Soda hoped his voice didn't come out as panicky as he felt.

"He must be having a bad reaction to the medication….that can sometimes cause hallucinations." Valarie mused, checking his vitals.

Suddenly Ponyboy began to gasp for air like a fish out of water than just as quickly he seemed to not be breathing at all and before Soda could even react the machine that the doctor explained to them the first day was to monitor his heart, went from the regular beeping he had gotten used to and stretched into one long beep.

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><p><strong>If you clicked on it and read it thank you! I'd love to know your thoughts? :D<strong>


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